Šapat [English translation]

1.str.

He hears the whispers - intermittent, muffled,

the roar and the clatters from some distant shore,

which're sobbing and writhing, making an echo inside of the skull.

And he realizes: that's bad. But he is husband and father.

He is struggler. He doesn't allow to that echo to grind him.

But it is hard to build when you have so weak bases-

breakable, crumbly ones and permanently destroyed home,

from which he got permanently housed breakage.

He understands. That's bad - voices inside of his head.

But maybe they will vanish.He is nervous. Such as all of us sometimes.

He has wife, two children and he built new home.

No matter how much bad is the base,

the man has to be few meters above.

Something above himself. Floor to himself. Roof to them.

So many things. A lot of good things to cover the trench.

But voices are not leaving him - they are boring and rumbling,

like curdy presages, like a shriek, like a call...

Oh, how great it would be, being able to sleep.

To immerse into black water which deafens you,

which grabs you entirely, and gently dissolve you

into blissfully nothing where whispers are silencing.

Echo is becoming louder. Now he knows it's calling him.

He feels it's breaking him. It's thundering in his head. Grinding him.

That it's changing him. The scull is too small. Too narrow.

And he knows: that's bad. And that will not stop.

He is getting up

before others.

He is going

upstairs.

He knows that

he loves all them,

but he should

handle this alone.

Not a word.

Not a scream.

Just thought

and breath.

Seconds.

Pain.

Just a moment.

And the end.

Ref.

All my life you are inside of my head - whisper.

You are living inside of me, in place where I am still weak.

Today is the day on which I will let you to be a scream.

I am leaving you in peace that you've never had.

2.str.

I am watching her. I know where is she going

whenever she gets quiet.That chokes more.That makes man angry.

That kind of abyss you can never cover at all.

You are just crouching down and presaging.

Question Why? and that questionnaire is a pickaxe in her soul.

Sometimes we are talking about it. But how could we know

how it looks when you pass through sth like that when you are kid.

Though, once we told her, after unknown number of empty bottles*,

that maybe it's not too late to save him.

Scream out his pain. Be his peace.

Do that for him. Stop the series.

Don't let that he become a whisper for you now

that is roaring inside of your head like a whiz

and presaging many bad things.

People usually say that only weak ones put their hands up

and only selfish people are doing harm to themselves.

But that is not always the thing, sometimes not at all.

Some people decide to go because they love their closest ones.

So blindly, loyally, more than their own skin,

when they realize that they are changing into something else. Bad.

I admire you from the beginning. And I hope you can

let him be a memory. Dad. And human being.

I'm letting you.

• Artist:Marčelo
• Album:Napet šou